CHAPTER VIII.

A HATFUL OF DIAMONDS.

Mrs. Chepstow, unlike most newly made widows, had little or nothing to say about her late husband; she was much more communicative concerning a redoubtable cousin of hers, a military gentleman, who had latterly been on service in India. Nothing had been heard of Colonel Banyon for upwards of a year, and Mrs. Chepstow began to express fears regarding his safety. She was a comfortable, round-bodied, fresh-faced woman, easily moved to tears or to laughter; and it would have been evident, even had she more striven to conceal it than she did, that if her valiant kinsman would only return home, and avail himself of his chances, he might have one of the most admirable and affectionate wives in the world. The Colonel, as she described him, was a charmingly gallant and romantic fellow, much addicted to harebrained adventures and dashing escapades; delightfully fortunate, moreover, and at the same time contemptuous of fortune. His way through the world was always from good to better, from bright to brilliant; and since he was as generous as he was lucky, he was altogether just the sort of person one would like to be acquainted with.

'We were very fond of each other, and I don't mind saying it to you, sister,' the widow observed to Lady Kildhurm, on more than one occasion. 'We seemed to get on together so well, if you know what I mean. And I was very sad to have him go to the Indies, so soon after my husband died, too. And I remember, the day he went away, he promised he'd bring me back his hat full of diamonds.'

'A hatful of diamonds?' repeated Sir Norman, who had come into the room without being observed by Mrs. Chepstow, and had overheard her last sentence.

'Oh, Sir Norman, how you startled me. Yes, indeed, his whole hat full; and he has a good-sized head, too, I assure you.'

'How did he expect to come by the diamonds?'

'Oh, from those Indian idols, as he called 'em. He says they're covered with 'em. Idols, I suppose you know, Rebecca,' she continued, turning to Lady Kildhurm, 'I suppose you know they're a kind of magistrate they have over there: so I understood from the Colonel. And he said they sometimes had diamonds in place of eyes; but I think he was only jesting then. And he said he should loot 'em--that was one of his words he was always using--as he had the right to do, because England was at war with the Indies, and then, besides, idols are always the enemies of Christians. But I should think it would be more Christianlike for us to convert 'em than to loot 'em; and I mean to tell the Colonel so, if ever I meet him again. Heigho! poor fellow! I hope he's not dead. If he is, I should never forgive myself, for I should always be thinking it was in getting me the diamonds that he lost his life. And he was always too venturesome--and having made a promise, he would be sure to try and keep it; so I fear all the idols may have got together and killed him. And oh! I had a dream last night; I dreamt I saw him floating in the sea over the cliff there, near the Oak, and he had a place crushed in on his head. I hope it won't come true! It isn't worth losing one's life for, Rebecca, is it?'

Lady Kildhurm, during this conversation, if conversation it could be termed, had been mending a hole in one of her little son's stockings; and the child himself was sitting on her knee, his attention divided between his own bare toes and the movement of his mother's darning-needle.

'What isn't worth losing one's life for, my dear?' she asked.

'A hatful of diamonds,' answered the widow.

'A hatful of diamonds?--No!' said Lady Kildhurm, bending to kiss her son's cheek, and thinking, perhaps, how many lives and how many diamonds into the bargain she would be ready to sacrifice for his sake.

'A hatful of diamonds?--I don't know!' murmured Sir Norman, glancing meditatively out of window, where the Oak stood dark against the afternoon sea of tender purple grey.

Presently afterwards he left the room and the Tower, and walked slowly down to the cliff. He sat himself down beneath the Oak, and, with his head thrown back, gazed up into its depths. Very gloomy it was, and very still; not a leaf stirred upon its twig. But after a long time, an acorn fell, and smote him smartly on the forehead. This broke his reverie; he rose, and laid his hand upon the ponderous bole of the tree, as upon the shoulder of a friend.

'Come, old demon!' he said, half aloud, 'I have waited long enough: it is time something should happen. Awake, and do your best, or your worst; the prophecy is ripe for fulfilment. "Death of three and wealth of one!" If I be not the one, 'tis very sure I shall be of the three, and that speedily! Come--promise me a hatful of diamonds! or even a handful.'

The tree made no sign: it only seemed to become gloomier than ever. Sir Norman emitted a long tremulous sigh.

'It is all folly!' he said dejectedly and with bitterness. 'Why could I not go to India and win diamonds for myself? Much good my calculations and my horoscopes and my hopes and fears have done me! A man may rob in India and be called a hero for it: why am I in England, where robbery is hanging? Here have I stayed, as if I were a rooted tree myself, and have gathered together the legends about this dumb old Oak, and pondered over them, and believed in them, until at last I have come verily to expect that these barren boughs shall drop gold upon me! I will expect it no more. This is the last day that it could have happened. Old demon, thou art a liar and a blockhead! I disbelieve and abjure thee! If ever thou didst have power, it is gone out of thee, never to return. To-morrow I will have thee hacked down, like any other timber, and piled up for use in the kitchen fire. And for my own part, I will cease to wait for the fulfilment of prophecies made by greater fools than myself; I will begin to act, and that to some purpose!'

An abrupt, thunderous sound, prolonging itself in softer echoes, seemed to answer him from the shore. A great wave had stolen unobserved through the calm, to fling down its message at the foot of the cliff. Before the echoes had died into silence, a low and hoarse murmur began to come forth from the deepest centre, apparently, of the hitherto silent Oak. With a movement of nervous eagerness, Sir Norman again raised his head and strove to make his glance penetrate the obscurity. The murmur grew in loudness and volume, and the heavy foliage was tumultuously agitated, and anon waved forcibly to and fro, and the branches, though as stalwart, many of them, as ordinary trees, moved and groaned and laboured, as if battling against the onset of a gale. It was an appalling spectacle--this turbulent storm roaring in the dark circumference of the Oak while all the evening round about was still as death. Sir Norman stood there in a mood of mingled awe and exultation. He was beholding what no other living eye had beheld: what none living besides himself, perhaps, had ever dared believe in. The miracle of a century ago was true again to-day. The demon was awake once more and was training his myriad tongues to speech. Sir Norman listened, and his ears were filled with a sound that was, and yet was not, articulate utterance. It spoke to his thought; but then his thought laid hold of it and seemed to be itself the speaker, or at least the shaper, of the word. And when the stormy voice was at its loudest, suddenly it sank into broken whispers and sighings, and soon was altogether hushed. The message had been given. What that message was, Sir Norman only could know.

The adventure had left him excited and tremulous, and for several minutes after he was as one overawed and distraught. By degrees, however, his mind began to recover from the first poignancy of the impression that had been made upon it; and he questioned with himself whether the occurrence had really been as miraculous as at the moment it had appeared to be?--whether his own imagination, in combination with certain natural causes, had not been answerable for at least the greater part of it? But this was only the instinctive effort of the amazed reason to deliver itself from the thraldom of the inexplicable. Further and quieter consideration showed the Baronet that he could not have been mistaken; and that there was no alternative between regarding himself as utterly insane, and acknowledging the miracle of the Oak. He preferred the latter horn of the dilemma. This night, then, was to be a momentous one for him and for his fortunes. Sir Norman issued forth from beneath the shadow of the Oak, and looked westward. It was just past sunset. He strolled across the breadth of lawn towards the Tower. On passing round to the outer gate, he was surprised to see a horse standing there, saddled and bridled, and bearing evidences of having made a long journey.

He called out to the gardener, as a bent old pauper was entitled who pottered about the grounds for a certain number of ineffective hours every day, and asked him where the horse came from. The gardener replied that a few minutes previous a gentleman had ridden up to the gate, dismounted, and having thrown his rein over the gate-post, had gone into the house. He had seemed to be in a great hurry.

'What sort of a gentleman was he?'

'Tall: and face brown like my hand: and he looked an active body: and his eyes were blue and merry: and he had a beard.'

'Take the horse to the stable. I suppose there is some hay there: take off his saddle and rub him down. This must be----'

'I am Colonel Banyon: are you Sir Norman Kildhurm? Sir, I have to ask your pardon for my lack of ceremony. Seeing no one outside, I rushed upstairs unannounced to find my cousin and kiss her hand.'

'Colonel, my pleasure in meeting you is second only to Mrs. Chepstow's. We have heard many things about you from her; and you have been long and anxiously expected. But may I ask where you are going----'

'Only to the stable,' said the Colonel, laughing and showing a sparkle of white teeth through his brown beard. 'I always make a point of seeing to my horse myself. And as I must resume my journey in three hours' time, it is the more needful that he should be well cared for meanwhile.' So saying, the Colonel threw the rein over his arm, and led the steed to the stable door, which the old gardener was holding open.

'Thank you, old chap,' he said to the latter; 'that's all I shall ask of you at present.' He put a gold piece into the man's hand, and, leaving him to stare at it in bewildered incredulity, he proceeded rapidly to unsaddle the horse and to rub him down vigorously with wisps of hay.

Sir Norman had followed him to the stable. 'Surely, Colonel,' he exclaimed in a tone of remonstrance, 'surely you don't mean to leave us again in three hours? Before that time it will be dark night, and there are signs of a storm coming on. I trust you will not hold our hospitality so cheap as to give it but a three hours' trial!'

'By no means, Sir Norman,' replied the other heartily. 'I hope to return hither a week or ten days hence, and to make a longer stay. But at present I have no choice but to make a forced march. The ship which brought me from India, you must know, was driven from its course by contrary winds, and I was landed last night at some port up here to the north, a hundred miles out of my way. I must report myself at Chester to-morrow; so you may know I have no time to lose. Luckily, my horse is one of the best in the world. But I should have been angry enough at my mishap, had I not found that it would enable me to pass Kildhurm Tower, and to catch a glimpse of my fair cousin; and to thank Lady Kildhurm and yourself for your kind care of her. Faith, she looked twice as pretty and as happy as when I bade her farewell a year and six months ago!'

'The hour of welcome better suits beauty than that of farewell,' observed Sir Norman with a smile. 'And now, Colonel, if you have made your horse as comfortable as the poor accommodation will admit, return with me to the house, and we will try to do the like by you. We have but homely country fare to set before you, but it is cordially at your service. And I think there is a bottle or two of wine in the cellar that will compensate some deficiencies.'

'I am the last man in the world to be particular about what I eat,' said the Colonel, as he and his host left the stables; 'if I were at the table of the King of the Cannibal Islands, I should devour what was set before me with gratitude and gusto--especially if I felt as hungry as I do now! But, in fact, the pleasure of seeing my dear cousin once more--and of making the acquaintance of Lady Kildhurm and yourself--is better to me even than a meal.'

Sir Norman bowed to the compliment, and led his guest upstairs. 'In this room,' said he opening a door, 'you can free yourself from some of the dust of travel; and meanwhile I will give orders for the other preparations. But, by the by, have you no luggage with you?'

'It has all gone round by sea,' answered the Colonel; 'all except such small matters as one may carry about his person; and except--this!' he added, 'which of course I am never parted from.'

As he spoke, he pulled from the front of his military jacket a bag made of soft yellow leather, curiously embroidered with coloured braid. It was about half as big again as a man's fist, and seemed heavy.

'And what--if the question may be permitted--is that?' inquired Sir Norman, fixing his eyes keenly on those of his guest.

'Oh, they are my diamonds, which I promised my cousin to bring her from India. But, before giving them to her, I shall take them to a lapidary in London and have them carefully set. At present, as you may see, they are many of them in the rough state, and worthless for a lady's ornaments.'

'They are not in themselves worthless, however,' remarked Sir Norman, bending over the glittering pile of jewels which the Colonel had carelessly poured out upon the table. 'And not all of them are diamonds.'

'No, they are of all kinds--rubies, sapphires, emeralds, or diamonds--I was not particular. And they have a value of their own, as you say: a fellow who understands about such things once offered me a hundred thousand guineas for the lot. But, of course, it was not his money that I wanted: each of those stones has some adventure associated with it which no money could buy of me; and, besides, they are all destined to adorn the person of my pretty cousin.'

'A magnificent gift, indeed!' murmured Sir Norman.

'I hope she will like it,' replied the Colonel ingenuously.

'What woman--what human being, for that matter--could be indifferent to it!' sighed Sir Norman, turning away. 'Well, I will leave you for a moment; when you are prepared, come to the room where you first found Mrs. Chepstow. We shall await you with impatience.'